Ive never imagined that waiting just five minutes could change my life. But thats exactly what happens.
It all starts three years ago. The first time I notice her, shes hurryingor as much as a person with a stick can hurrytowards my bus stop. Well, hurrying is quite the word. The elderly lady shuffles along with her walking stick as fast as possible, waving her free hand in the air as if her world depends on it.
I pull over. Of course I do.
Thank you, my boy, she says, breathing heavily as she grabs the rail. These old bones arent what they used to be.
Take your time, have a seat, I reply.
From that day, she becomes a regular. Every Tuesday and Friday she rides my bussometimes for a doctors appointment, sometimes to see her sister. The same issue crops up every time: she always arrives just as Im about to drive off.
The second time I spot her in the side mirror, struggling along, my colleague beside me mutters,
Come on, lets go or well be late.
But I keep my eyes on her. Shes wearing her old green coat, clutching her handbag.
Well wait, I say.
Youll get in trouble for this
Let them, I shrug.
She climbs on, gives me a warm smile with those sparkling eyes, and whispers,
Youre an angel.
And so it becomes a routine. Every Tuesday and Friday, I pause at the same spot. If she isnt there, I waitthirty seconds, a minute, two, whatever it takes. No one complains. People have come to adore her. Some even lean out the window and call,
Oi, shes coming!
In time, she starts bringing me homemade biscuits.
My granddaughter made these, she tells me, though Im never quite sure if I believe her.
Then, one Friday in July, she doesnt show up. Nor the following Tuesday. A week passes, then another. I still pause and look to the cornerbut she never appears.
Shes probably not well, says one of my regulars. Shes getting on in years
Three weeks later, I see her again. Shes walking even slower now, using a walking frame. I hop off the bus and hurry to her side.
Are you alright?
Her eyes fill with tears.
I was in hospital. But I told my daughter I must take your bus at least once more.
I help her on. The whole bus bursts into applause.
Last Tuesday is my final shift on this route. Im retiring after more than thirty years on the job. As I approach the stop, I notice shes not alone. Dozens have gatheredold passengers, neighbours, even Alan from the corner shop.
Theyre holding a big sign:
Thank you. You showed us that kindness is always on time.
I step off the bus, not quite sure whats happening. Slowly, she comes over, leaning on her granddaughter, and gives me a hug.
Youve waited for me so many times, she says. Today, were waiting for you.
There are speeches, and then they reveal a new sign. They say the bus stop is now to be named after meThe Stop for the Man Who Always Waits.
My voice shakes.
I I was only waiting. Its nothing special.
Someone at the back shouts,
It IS special! Everyones rushing in this town, and no one waits for anyone anymore!
Once again, applause fills the air.
That evening, as I tell my wife all about it, she says,
Thats why I love you. In a world thats always in a hurry, youve always known when to pause.
I place the new sign next to the childrens photos. But the thing Ill treasure most is her smile as she gets on the bus, and her gentle thank you, my boy.
People say I did something remarkable. All I did was wait.
Sometimes, I think that may be the most remarkable thing we can dojust wait for someone, even when the world is telling you to move on.
